


Silence is Golden

by TheChichiSlaughterHouse



Series: BDSM ZoSan [14]
Category: One Piece
Genre: 40 year old ZoSan, BDSM, D/s, Hair-pulling, M/M, Rimming, mentions of previous sexual activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29849601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChichiSlaughterHouse/pseuds/TheChichiSlaughterHouse
Summary: After twenty goddamn years of looking but not touching, Zoro finally has the cook in his arms. Should be smooth sailing from here, right? Not exactly. It's Sanji: when has anything ever been easy with him?
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: BDSM ZoSan [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203488
Comments: 13
Kudos: 100





	Silence is Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Silence is Golden
> 
> By The Chichi Slaughter House
> 
> Warnings: ZoSan (40 years old edition), BDSM, heavy on the D/s, teasing, rimming.
> 
> Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda.
> 
> Rating: NC-17
> 
> It’s official: I am back on my bullshit. You can blame Oda for his canon depiction of older Sanji with long hair, as well as one of my friends who I have finally corrupted into my BDSM agenda. One thing led to another and I ended up obsessing over a new RP, wherein I actually play Zoro for the first time ever. So when I say I’m back on my bullshit, I don’t just mean BDSM and long-haired Sanji but writing fanfic of a much longer story that you’ll probably never get to see. I’d apologise but we all know I’m not sorry.
> 
> Also many, many thanks to _my_ Sanji for betaing this and making my vision a more accurate representation of the adorable little bastard that my Zoro has been graced with <3 If you need me, I’ll be in a corner frantically planning what else I can do to him.
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/slaughterchichi) | [Tumblr](http://slaughterchichi.tumblr.com) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/slaughterchichi) | [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/slaughterchichi)

It’d been a beautiful day, not too hot, not too cold. A cloudless sky reflected as silver dancing on the waves of the ocean that gave way to a red-tinged gold during sunset as the Sunny made its steady, reliable way towards their next destination. A summer island this time, one that especially Usopp had been looking forward to, annoying them with his tourist planner and travel guide all week since he’d purchased it during their last stop. It had a water park, and a zoo! Lots of casinos. Hotels, as well, of course.

Usually Zoro didn’t care too much about this type of thing: as long as there was a bar he could hit after docking he was good. But the prospect of spending some quality time with the cook away from prying eyes, preferably where a king size bed was provided, was too good an opportunity to pass up. Until then, he’d have to contend himself with inviting Sanji up to the training room. It was perfect in that regard, since few if any, of their crew ever came up here and would dare disturb them. Especially not this late in the evening.

Idly, Zoro glanced out of the window from where he sat on the bench, arms spread over the backrest as he waited for the cook. The navy silk kimono he had on clung warmly at his shoulders, the golden-swirled embroidery along the edges very slightly scratching at his skin. It was only his second time wearing it; the thinner and more delicate material still feeling bizarre and unlike anything else he’d ever worn before. Zoro wasn’t sure if he liked it all that much, but the effect it had had on Sanji outweighed his personal comfort. This was all about setting the right mood, making sure everyone involved knew their place and was delighted by what they saw.

He’d even taken another shower, gone the whole nine yards and not only brushed his hair but shaved too. Something about the way Sanji had looked at him the first time had told him that it was all necessary, made him want to replicate it from the top to the bottom in hopes of getting that same stare again.

The swordsman was still feeling high and excited that he’d managed to break down the cook’s defences, and finally get the slippery bastard in his arms after twenty goddamn years. Zoro had watched from a distance so long that he’d picked up on Sanji’s inclinations, even when the cook was only nineteen and probably hadn’t realised them yet himself.

The way Sanji had always seemed overeager to please the women had been strange from the get-go but not as strange as the fact that he kept going back for more. Not once had Nami or Robin really seemed to repay him, short of a few ‘thank you’s here and there before sending him away. It didn’t take a genius to notice that Sanji liked being ordered around by them, especially not when he always left looking a little put-out. As though he was hoping for something else to come from his efforts, and not the typical dating or sex that might be assumed. Hell, he even looked thrilled when Nami smacked him across the head sometimes; something that just seemed odd if you didn’t know what you were looking to see.

It hadn’t taken Zoro very long to figure that one out, not when the cook would always come barrelling to him straight after without fail with fire in his eye. Giving stupid reasons that they had to fight right then and there, hurling insults until Zoro’s much-thinner patience had snapped and he fell into that trap. He’d always had the impression he was being used to blow off steam, but had shrugged it off as mere frustration until the day he’d walked into a brothel and asked someone about it.

Before he’d ever met Sanji, the red light districts on islands had never held any lure for him. His focus had always been on training; getting stronger so that he could finally defeat Mihawk and take the title of ‘world’s greatest swordsman’ for himself. Stupid shit like sex and romance had just bored him, made him roll his eyes when anyone had prepositioned him for it and walk away. Zoro still found it bizarre now that of all people, the cook was the one who’d blown the lid off that for him, felt a bit of shame creep into his cheeks when he realised just how gargantuan of an impression the dumb blond’s ass had had on him.

After Sanji had joined the crew, Zoro had found his own eyes straying to watch him, his hands clenching into fists so he didn’t do anything stupid. From the moment he’d met him, Sanji had acted like men were fucking disgusting – why bother even trying when he knew the answer was going to be a resounding ‘no’? Not just a no either; probably a boot up his ass and a screeching tirade of insults on top of it, followed by Sanji refusing to sleep in the same room as him or something, let alone get undressed near him. Zoro didn’t want the hassle of all that shit, so he’d always kept his attraction to himself.

Men like the cook were rare but not impossible to find, not if you knew where to look. Even the most understaffed brothels had a skinny twink or two knocking about, ones that would let you do whatever you wanted or act however you liked. He’d spent what felt like forever satiating his urges doing that; taking out his pent up emotions towards Sanji on men who were all too happy to receive them. When he’d noticed Sanji’s more hidden traits, he’d done the same thing. Initially to try and learn more about it, though as time had gone on Zoro had found himself getting more and more interested. Their desires had seemed to be two sides of the same coin, but because Sanji always seemed uninterested in men it hadn’t seemed like it had mattered.

That was, of course, until he’d noticed the cook taking peeks at him every now and then. Hiding around corners or peering through the galley windows whenever he worked out, watching him with a rapt attention that had sent tingles running down his spine. Sanji was far more interested than he let on, but the possibility of having him rage at him for acting on it had still kept Zoro at a distance. Without an outright admission of it, there didn’t seem to be any point: if the cook was still closeted, he’d still end up kicked to shit for it.

There’d been so much time like that – all of it feeling wasted and now it was like Zoro was trying to play catch up. Frustrated over his own hesitation, annoyed that he hadn’t just taken the matter into his own hands far sooner. It wasn’t entirely his fault; Sanji still hadn’t really said anything about being interested in men. He’d never seen him so much as flirt with one or check one out as he passed them by – how was he meant to know??

Zoro ran his hand through his hair in discomfort, making a noise in the back of his throat at his own foolishness. If anything, he’d been lucky that his hunch had been right on the money; that the rough tumble he’d practically forced on the prick had ended up a pleasant one. He’d just been so frustrated to see Sanji fawning over Nami yet again that he’d lost his temper when Sanji had tried to pick a fight with him afterwards. It hadn’t taken much to unnerve him and have Sanji chase him into the galley, but the second he’d buried his hand in that gorgeous long hair, the swordsman had practically been writing his own will.

The fact that Sanji had submitted to him, let him molest him in the kitchen of all places still sometimes felt like a dream. The night after had felt even more unbelievable; Zoro couldn’t wrap his head around it even now. It wasn’t impossible for Sanji to have figured himself out by this age, but the way he’d been putty in his hands after Zoro had given his ass a beating just didn’t feel real yet. Neither did the knowledge that Zoro had finally fucked him – it was difficult to believe it wasn’t just a drunken hallucination that had spiralled out of control.

But that was the thing: there was no way in hell all of that had been a delusion cooked up by Zoro’s subconscious. Sanji had acted against how he’d thought he would, made things difficult in ways he hadn’t expected. Zoro wasn’t pent up or anything either – the frequent visits offshore had seen to that.

He’d left things alone for a few days to let Sanji heal from his bruises and though it had made him doubt himself a little bit, the glances from the cook had reassured him that it wasn’t all in his head. Sanji wouldn’t look at him like that otherwise; not with those nervous yet hungry eyes that revealed everything he was thinking.

The plan had been to let him rest up fully, make sure that Sanji would be ready and able to take on anything that Zoro wanted without problems, but he’d been unable to stick to it. He wanted to touch him so badly that he’d given in to himself, cornering him when he was alone and telling him to come up here when everyone else was in bed. He’d rested his fingertips on Sanji’s chest as he did so, waiting to see if he’d undo his buttons like he’d asked him to. The sign that he was willing, that he wanted to go upstairs away from prying eyes and let Zoro do whatever he wanted to do. The affirmation that he’d behave.

Sanji had done that. Had continued to wear his shirt revealing far more of his skin than he normally allowed in the presence of anyone else. The sight of his chest had driven Zoro nuts at dinner, almost made him reach out for him then and there if the others hadn’t been around. Sanji had looked back at him knowingly, kept a straight face despite the pink rising in his cheeks. Thankfully the island they were heading to this time was a more tropical climate; both the exposure and the redness in Sanji’s face going unnoticed or at least unmentioned by the rest of the crew.

After that, all the swordsman had needed to do was wait. But even that was taking its toll on him. At least it wouldn’t be much longer now.

The smell of smoke hit Zoro’s nose before he even caught a glimpse of Sanji, making him wrinkle it in annoyance as his eye darted to the ladder. Sure enough, his senses hadn’t betrayed him at all – the cook’s head popping through not a minute later with a cigarette stuck between his teeth. A lit one at that, looking almost brand new from the length of it, like he’d sparked up just before heading up here. Zoro’s eye narrowed but he didn’t say anything, giving himself a few seconds to think this over.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think that a decades-old habit would be easy to let go of just because he’d said so. If anything, that would have been weird. Smoking when he was stressed or nervous or amping himself up was second-nature to Sanji by now; probably didn’t even register in his head when he did it. The look on his face wasn’t smug either, pushing aside the niggling doubt that he’d done it on purpose to make Zoro angry. It was probably just a mistake, though not beyond recompense.

Sanji looked back over to him in confusion, seemingly unaware of why Zoro was frowning. 

“What, don’t like my face anymore?” Sanji asked with an arched eyebrow but as soon as his own hand reached to his lips to idly pluck the cigarette away, he froze in realisation. The cig was pulled away with haste at once; Sanji’s eyes flitting between it in his fingers and back at Zoro’s face like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that.”

After a few awkward seconds, Sanji reached down to stub it off on the bottom of his shoe, prompting Zoro to speak as he loudly smacked his hand on the window behind himself to push it open.

“No, no, come here.”

“Alright,” Sanji said after a slight pause, rubbing the back of his neck. To Zoro’s surprise, Sanji made his way over with an expression stuck between guilty and restive, like a child scolded for stealing sugar, no swagger in his step to be detected. This honestly couldn’t have been intentional, not with the way he was avoiding eye contact right now. Zoro could see a nervous twitch to Sanji’s brow, how his jaw worked as he tensed up even down to his shoulders. Once he’d shuffled his way to Zoro, he thrust the cigarette out awkwardly as if he expected it to get ripped from his fingers and thrown out the window if he didn’t offer it up voluntarily.

Instead, Zoro patted his hand against the bench beside himself, motioning for Sanji to sit down. He was trying to keep calm but it was a little difficult when every inch of Sanji’s body language was like he was expecting another beating. He’d deserve it for already messing up and Zoro could feel an itch in his palm that longed to give it to him. But that wasn’t what he’d called him up here for today, and it really would have been unfair to punish him that harshly for an obvious lapse of memory.

“You can smoke it out of the window,” Zoro murmured. “Just this once.”

He knew he was being soft, letting him get away with this after very clearly telling him it wasn’t allowed but Zoro didn’t feel much like bullying him over it. At least, not right now anyway. There had to be some grace period at least; to let things fully sink in without the worry of getting hurt over so much as breathing wrong. 

“Huh, that’s… yeah, alright.” The relief on Sanji’s face was obvious as the pinched expression melted away. There was still a slightly suspicious glint to his eye, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Still, he moved to sit beside him, clearing his throat in an attempt to break the awkwardness of the moment before he lifted the cigarette to his mouth again. Yet as soon as it was about to reach his lips, Zoro clicked his tongue and grabbed Sanji’s wrist, demanding his attention fully.

“I said ‘out the window’.”

That was the only warning Zoro gave before he stood up and grabbed Sanji around the waist. Manhandling him into the position he wanted him in, Zoro flipped the cook over so he was on his knees on the bench, facing the window. Sanji’s elbows came up on reflex, bracing himself against the window frame as Zoro pushed half of his torso outside of it. Far enough for the wind to whip his hair around his shoulders, but not enough to make him lose his balance and topple over and plunge to the depth below.

“H-Hey, wait! Marimo!” The cook yelped in surprise all the same and his foot caught Zoro’s forearm simply by accident in his panic. Even if he wasn’t trying, his kicks were quite powerful; a shock of pain running up Zoro’s elbow and into his shoulder. It hurt but wasn’t unpleasant at all. Zoro grunted in response, registering the higher pitch in his voice as well as the nickname that slipped from his lips. The motion must have startled him more than Zoro had expected it to if he’d forgotten to say his name instead.

Zoro let go of Sanji’s hips to fist his hand in the loop of his belt, holding him securely to alleviate Sanji’s worries about falling out of the window. It was meant as a little bit of a threat too; a warning he could just toss him out any time he felt like it, though he knew that it wouldn’t really hurt him. Sanji would just walk through the goddamned air anyway, no matter how surprised he was.

The cook twisted in his grip, squabbling for purchase on the window frame so as not to fall further down and affording Zoro an eyeful of that perfect ass pointed in his direction. His other hand twitched with the urge to smack it; one he simply couldn’t not give in to when it looked like it was waiting for it.

Zoro sucked in a breath through his teeth as he swung his hand forwards, giving a firm but playful hit against Sanji’s rear. The cook jumped at the impact, panicking slightly and turning his head as his hands gripped at the windows, anything he could reach in his predicament. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere though, not with Zoro holding him like that.

“Oi, c’mon, pull me up already—”

“Hush.” Zoro’s tone was firm as he stroked his hand up Sanji’s back, winding his fingers into his hair to force him to look out over the ocean instead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Take your time, enjoy your smoke.”

“...Smoke. Right.”

Sanji let go of the windows with shaky hands, cigarette still pinched between two fingers, nervous yet willing to trust him. Zoro could feel the anticipation rolling off him in waves, the slight fear pumping adrenaline through Zoro’s spine as he saw Sanji’s feet digging into the bench to keep his balance. It was cute how he was drawn taut all over, his body poised as he seemed to expect another hit. Zoro could see the curls of smoke wafting over the top of Sanji’s hair, whisked away to the right because of the slight breeze.

He was tempted to give him that second smack, but the knowledge that the bruises from last time wouldn’t have healed yet stopped him from acting on it. This position was great for that but it was also useful for something else – the thing he’d actually called the cook up here for in the first place.

Zoro quietly sunk down to his knees behind Sanji, reaching both of his hands to the front of his trousers. As he worked to undo the belt, he felt Sanji startle, repressing his chuckle when he undid the top button of his pants with just his thumb. Normally the amount of effort to get his pants off was annoying, but right now it was perfect: building the anticipation in Sanji’s gut, letting him fret over what was going to happen when Zoro tugged them all the way down. The poor bastard had no idea what Zoro had in store, and it was with delight that the swordsman slowly pulled down Sanji’s zipper.

He could tell even without seeing his face that Sanji was dying to turn around, probably considering putting out his cigarette early just so he could know what was going on. Zoro had been careful with his word choice to prevent that, knew that even if Sanji tried to rush things he still had plenty of time to do what was on his mind. If he rushed it, he was going to be in trouble; especially since Zoro had gracefully let him finish the damn thing.

His hands reached up to hook into the waistband of Sanji’s underwear, pulling them down along with his trousers so they pooled around his knees. He didn’t leave them there though, insistently lifting each leg to drag them off completely. Careful and methodical, one leg after the other, resting Sanji’s knees back against the bench to keep him balanced. There were goosebumps prickling up under his hands as Sanji gasped and Zoro took the time to look at his revealed skin.

Zoro couldn’t help his grin at the sight of Sanji left in nothing but his shirt and his silly little shoes. Though they always looked impeccable from above, the soles on them were marred with damage; small cuts into the heel where he’d deflected Zoro’s swords with them. Zoro revised his mental statement: these were the shoes of a seasoned pro.

His gaze snapped back up to Sanji’s bare ass, seeing the soft red outline of a handprint exactly where he’d smacked him. Just over a few of the bruises from the other day, which were no longer purple or blue but fading into yellow and green. Zoro leaned up to kiss over the mark in apology, feeling the heat from the abused skin soaking into his mouth. His tongue flicked out to trace over it in devotion, catching the surprised gasp from the window in unadulterated glee. His hands reached back to caress up Sanji’s thighs, fingers dipping between them as he used his elbows to coax his ankles wide apart.

“Ah shit,” Sanji grunted. He had fully tensed up now, so fraught from nerves and anticipation that his voice did not retain any of the calm it usually carried. The sound was music to Zoro’s ears, causing his fingers to dig in as he bit lightly at Sanji’s right cheek.

“Hush.”

Zoro would have been annoyed that he had to repeat himself but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was too focused at the moment for any sort of interruption, his large palms settling on Sanji’s cheeks as he spread them open with his thumbs. Sanji choked but didn’t say a word, trembling as he hunched further down. Even from his vantage point he could see the cook’s ears were burning red.

Zoro glanced between Sanji’s thighs to look at his cock, pleased to see it had already begun to swell to hardness though he’d barely done anything. Whether it had been from the slap or the vulnerability didn’t matter at all; he was just happy to see Sanji’s body responding so honestly to him, eager for what he had in store. He leaned in to press a kiss high on his thigh in reward, his eye falling on his prize as it twitched nervously.

Even though he’d really put it through its paces the other day, Sanji’s hole already looked back to normal. Tight as if he’d never touched it, let alone had his whole cock stuffed right inside it. Zoro licked his lips, humming contentedly in the back of his throat. He had expected no less, really, not with the amount of kicking that Sanji did. He contemplated giving him a compliment on it, just to see how much he’d squirm, but opted against it in sake of running his tongue over the puckered skin in a lazy, slow lick.

“Fuck!” Sanji groaned despite himself but Zoro chose to ignore it. This is what he’d wanted to do for days, ever since he’d given it that tiny little poke the other night. He wasn’t going to stop even if Sanji couldn’t keep his voice down – if someone heard him and asked him about it tomorrow, that was going to be his problem, not Zoro’s.

Zoro murmured as he gave him another lick; right from above his balls all the way up his cleft. He tasted great today too. Sanji’s hole spasmed under his tongue when he dipped his head back down, using the point of his tongue to trace little circles over him that got faster as he neared the centre. Sanji’s next noises sounded muffled, as if he was biting down on his fist to stop them from escaping, his hips pushing back in a silent beg for more.

This time, Zoro was more than happy to oblige: slipping down to run the flat of his tongue over him in a long decadent sweep. Sanji’s ankles clung to his sides, his feet twisting around the small of his back like he was afraid he was going to pull away. Zoro didn’t blame him for that after last time, enjoying the way the pointy tips of his shoes dug into his tender flesh and sent a tingle up his back.

He rewarded him by shoving his tongue in not even a second later, groaning throatily against Sanji’s skin as it was squeezed in response. Zoro flexed it slightly to tease him before pulling back, greedily eying the wet mess he’d left behind. The sound of liquid dripping against wood drew his attention lower, a milky stain on the edge of the bench riling him up even more. Fuck, Sanji was so sensitive here it was difficult to imagine he hadn’t been played with like this before – only making him bend back down to finish what he’d started.

Zoro alternated between his long licks and teasing thrusts of his tongue, relishing every single gasp and suppressed moan that met his ears with enthusiasm. Each one just made the heat in his own gut grow larger, caused him to push forward a little more vigorously every time Sanji let out a clipped noise. The cook was almost sobbing by the time his tongue started to feel tired, the mess of the bench just getting sloppier as Sanji was eased open.

By now it was almost no effort to push into him at all; Zoro’s tongue reaching as deep as it could get and flicking against his skin without resistance. He pulled back to give him a once-over, grinning to himself when Sanji’s hips bucked back in disappointment. It’d be so easy to deny him right now and leave him wanting, or to shove his fingers in and push him over the edge completely. Zoro wasn’t sure which he’d prefer, was having a small debate over it in the back of his mind when Sanji’s next word rang in his ears.

“ _Please_.”

It was so full of desperation that Zoro didn’t need to think any more; wrapping his arms around Sanji’s waist as he pulled him back onto his face. Tongue-fucking him without mercy, growling into his skin as his fingers dug harshly into his thighs. Sanji cried out in pleasure as he sagged forward, clamping down on his tongue enough to hurt as he twitched erratically in his arms.

Zoro didn’t stop until Sanji’s moaning had calmed down to a whimper, loosening his grip as he got back to his feet. Sanji was a trembling mess in the window, his own hands clutching desperately at the frame and backrest of the bench as if he was scared he’d collapse the moment he let go. He didn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore, slumping back against his ankles and shuddering all over. Zoro looked down at him with slight pity, wiggling his tongue to get the feeling back into it before reaching over to stroke his hair.

“Full of nicotine now, yeah?” His voice was raspy and gruff, the words sounding a little strange even to himself. All Sanji could manage was a nod, his forehead resting against the back of the bench as he panted and tried to catch his breath. Zoro almost wanted to let him, but the mess over the bench and now the floor caught his eye. His hand fisted in Sanji’s hair, tugging him up to growl into his ear. “Don’t rest just yet.”

Slowly, Zoro tugged back on it, forcing Sanji to stumble off the bench before roughly pushing him to his knees. He held his head level with the seat, let the sight of it burn itself into Sanji’s eyes.

Sanji could only gasp, his words getting caught before he could vocalize his surprise.

“You made a mess,” Zoro purred, sounding happy instead of firm like he’d intended. He made up for that by forcing Sanji’s head closer, threatening him with the reality of what he was going to have to do now. He heard Sanji swallow, licked his own lips in anticipation. “So clean it.”

A few seconds ticked by without a move from the cook at all, only the sound of his laboured breathing reaching Zoro’s ears. Though he knew that Sanji was probably still hazy and perhaps resting, Zoro growled and crouched down next to him. His fingers tightened in Sanji’s hair as he watched his face, catching the low gasp of pleasure when he turned Sanji’s head so he could look him in the eye.

“I can use your hair instead, if you want.”

It was an idle threat really. Zoro had no problems actually doing it but he was fairly certain that the cook would not be impressed with him later on if he did. These were still early days; they’d barely had much time to go through many of their likes and dislikes yet, mostly because Zoro didn’t think Sanji even knew where his boundaries were. He had to learn them sometime, but it was a shared journey for that: requiring baby steps that didn’t push too far in any direction in case he crossed a line. Zoro wasn’t used to it, usually engaged with partners who knew what they were about, but he didn’t hate it in the least. If anything, it was thrilling to be the first person to ever push Sanji this far and all he really needed was some patience.

Sanji’s lips tensed, a flash of indignance flashing over his eye as the words sunk in. Ah, he hadn’t liked the sound of that. Zoro added it to his mental list of things not to say again, but the mere chance of it happening had Sanji dipping his head forward.

As the cook’s pink tongue flicked out over the dark wood, Zoro hummed contentedly and relaxed his grip in his hair. Even if he couldn’t actually do it, insinuating it was effective for sure. His fingers massaged at Sanji’s scalp as he watched each sweep of his tongue, enjoying the way it curled back between his lips between licks. The slight scrape of the tip as it brushed against Sanji’s top teeth was deeply satisfying and when the cook pulled his head back, there were only traces of saliva left on the bench.

Zoro considered pushing Sanji’s head to the floor to make him clean that up as well, but just watching him clean off the bench had been enough. He could wipe the floor himself using one of the towels he had hanging up for after his workouts.

Zoro stroked his hand down to Sanji’s neck as he got back onto his feet, eyeing Sanji’s trousers that were carelessly thrown onto the floor. The poor bastard still seemed like he was made of jelly; he’d probably have to help him get dressed and guide him back down the ladder. The thought amused him as much as it made him happy - to think that the proud cook of the Strawhat pirates could be reduced to such a mess just from a bit of touching, it seemed bizarre.

When Sanji’s hands suddenly grabbed at his hips, Zoro startled in place and looked back down to him. Maybe he wasn’t as worn out as he’d thought. The cook’s fingers dug into the sash at his waist as he leaned up and nuzzled his face right into his crotch, a greedy glint in his eye that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Lemme—” He breathed heatedly, his lips already finding the hard outline of his erection and mapping it hungrily.

Ah, Zoro had forgotten about that habit. Sanji didn’t like being the only person getting touched, always felt the urge to show his appreciation straight after. Desperate to please in return, eagerly mouthing over the front of his trousers where Zoro was already erect and aching. His oral fixation had come out to play, despite Zoro assuming that sucking down on his cigarette would have been enough to stave it off. He hated to deny him, but there wasn’t much time before his turn at watch tonight and honestly, not letting Sanji do what he wanted would just make it feel sweeter when he allowed it.

“No.” Zoro pushed down on Sanji’s head with the flat of his palm, pushing it away where the cook wouldn’t reach him anymore. His cock seethed in displeasure as Sanji let out a groan at the treatment, as disappointed and put out by the denial as he had been the first time, too. Zoro felt oddly ganged up upon but didn’t back down, ruffling Sanji’s hair as he took a step back. “I have stuff to do, c’mon, get dressed.”

Sanji yanked his head back and glared up at him, a scowl lining his lips as he suddenly smoothened back his hair. Of course it was a futile attempt; it was mussed up, framing his face no matter how many times Sanji ran his hand through it. He gave up soon enough and started redoing the buttons on his shirt right up to his neck instead. A petty act of defiance, one that went against Zoro’s expectations. It was probably more to do with being kicked out than anything else, especially since last time he’d let him spend the night in his arms. Sanji had probably been anticipating more of the same, not a quick once-over before being shooed away. Zoro just sighed and shook his head. He’d have to make it up to him later.

“Don’t pout, princess.” Even as Zoro said it, he knew he’d fucked up. Now wasn’t the time to be ruffling Sanji’s feathers, not when he needed him to behave.

“ _Prin_ —” Sanji started but caught himself though the look on his face told Zoro all that his voice wouldn’t. His glare was downright murderous, tinged with offense and shock that he’d say such a thing. It was like all three emotions were fighting with each other, all vying to come out on top. For a moment, Zoro thought he saw a flash of satisfaction but it was gone almost as quickly as it had come.

“Fine, suit yourself.” Sanji spoke through gritted teeth, haughty as he reached over for his own trousers. Zoro wasn’t quite sure what to make of him as Sanji pulled them back on, each motion of his hands harsh and filled with frustration. He was definitely holding himself back from something, practically biting his tongue while he tightened up his belt. A rare display of self-restraint, though the reason why was up in the air. Zoro supposed he’d find out later.

When Sanji got back up, Zoro stroked his palm over his broad shoulders in apology. He’d wanted to send him out of here with a smirk and a pat on the ass, but as usual the cook had thrown his plans out the window. Adapting in this sort of situation wasn’t one of Zoro’s specialties but he didn’t mind; it was just a weak spot, something he could improve on in the future. He hadn’t gotten to be the World’s Greatest Swordsman by everything going his way either, but he’d definitely attained it with his own hands. Figuring Sanji out was going to be more of the same: an excruciatingly long process with an amazing prize at the end of it.

Besides, Zoro liked challenges.

The cook shrugged off his hand like it was nothing, stuffing his own hands into his pockets. It was clearly going to take more than that to smooth this over, but that’s why Zoro had his trump card in the first place. Normally at this point, after one of their usual scuffles, Sanji would have already been lighting a new cigarette. The fact that he hadn’t this time did not go unnoticed – even if he was displeased, Sanji was still following the rules that had been set out for him.

“...Next time, alright?” Zoro’s tone had softened considerably, taking all these little actions into account. He knew deep down that Sanji responded better to carrots than to sticks; punishing him would just have the opposite effect.

“Tch,” Sanji clicked his tongue; not agreeable but not aggressive either. Still, the tenseness in his shoulders lessened even if it didn’t dissipate entirely. He was probably too agitated to get excited about the idea right now, though Zoro was sure that would change in time. Sanji had to cool down first, let the feelings of disappointment and betrayal settle before he’d even consider letting himself feel happy. Too proud and stubborn to just let it roll off his back as easily as that, still unwilling or unable to let his guard down so quickly.

Zoro liked that about him though. It just made his submission more rewarding; something to be earned instead of given freely.

Sanji straightened his back and started walking away without another word or even looking back at him. Sulking, probably, though even Zoro wouldn’t dare to say that to Sanji’s face. The cook didn’t really know how easy he was to read, but there were moments like this where he wouldn’t let anyone look him in the eye. He knew that Sanji found it hard to lie, found maintaining a mask for extended periods to be exhausting at the best of times. Holding himself back was more of the same; an emotional toll that Sanji could shoulder but didn’t unless absolutely necessary, always brimming with too much life, too much energy. The fact that the cook considered this to be one of those occasions was both concerning and an honour in equal parts.

Zoro didn’t get to question him about that though; Sanji was already across the room before he could think of what to say. It was with disdain that he kicked the hatch off the ladder open, a loud metallic clang thundering around the chamber in a perfect reflection of his mood. Despite that, he hesitated to climb the ladder down, his shoulders tense as he seemed to struggle with a decision, flicking the nail of his thumb against his middle finger. Zoro didn’t need to see his expression to know he was glaring at the floor. It was like a dark cloud shrouding him, before Sanji abruptly turned on his heel. In only three long strides of his powerful legs he was back in Zoro’s face, his jaw set in determination.

“Bastard,” He rasped low under his breath. “You better.” It was the only warning Zoro got before Sanji yanked him forward by his collar and into a bruising kiss. It wasn’t elegant or refined, but it did hold a charming sort of desperation when Sanji’s hands let go of his robe to bury them in his hair instead. Angling his head for a searing lick across his lips, seemingly intent on tasting himself.

Zoro couldn’t help grinning against Sanji’s mouth. Maybe he wasn’t as pissed off as he’d thought. Yet before he could take charge of the kiss, Sanji broke it and shoved him backwards as if he found his entire existence beneath him. 

The swordsman blinked and before he knew it, Sanji was gone without so much as a goodbye, simply jumping down the ladder in one fell swoop. The sudden emptiness of the room and lack of warm body beside his dampened Zoro’s spirit somewhat. It was like the cook had read his mind and left him before he could really start to enjoy himself – a reversal of what had just occurred. He shook his head to himself in exasperation before heading back to sit down, staring out of the window again into the darkened night. It’d be hard to tell if any ships were coming now, making the whole idea of being lookout somewhat pointless. Still, he’d been appointed the position earlier in the day and Nami’s watchful eye had told him he’d suffer if he failed to uphold it.

The last thing Zoro needed at this age was more goddamn debt, even if the alternative was Sanji pissed at him. That, he could fix. All it’d take were some soothing words, probably an orgasm or two. Nami would want at least a billion Beli; a task that was so ridiculous Zoro didn’t want to risk it. By now she must have known he was never going to be able to pay her back, but it didn’t stop her making his life difficult and refusing to give him cash when he needed it.

He was probably going to need cash more than ever now. They’d gone through lube like it was going out of fashion. The one tube he’d had stashed away had almost been used up entirely. If this was going to be a regular occurrence, he was going to need a hell of a lot more, along with some other things that might make it a little more interesting. He could probably have asked the cook to chip in for that sort of thing, but part of the fun was in it being a surprise – having Sanji tag along and see everything he was planning would probably lead to embarrassment, if not arguments.

The thought of taking Sanji around a sex shop reminded Zoro of the appointment he’d made in advance just before they’d left the last island. Shit, he’d have to cancel that as soon as they reached land. Either way he’d lose his deposit but it was the least he could do: he’d been frequenting various places over the years, didn’t want to sully the bonds he’d made by being a no-show. It wasn’t like he was going to need those particular services any more but making new enemies wasn’t top of his list right now. He got that enough from challengers as it was.

The cook had only just left, but he was eager to have him back in his hands already. The memory of Sanji squirming beneath him still fresh in his mind, echoes in his ears of the noises he’d made the other night. His hand clenched into a fist as his cock throbbed in frustration, regretting having sent him away despite the fact that it was the right thing to do. If he’d had him stay, he’d have ended up fucking him, unable to focus on the task at hand. With Zoro’s luck, they would have missed the island completely if not crashed into the side of it at full-speed. He’d have never heard the end of it, not even from the cook himself.

Thinking of all the things he had to do made Zoro groan. This meeting was supposed to tide him over until he had everything he needed, but it had backfired royally. How was he supposed to stay calm and think about anything else when he could still taste Sanji on his tongue? The cologne that Sanji had put on was wafting around the room, tickling at his nose and making him think he was still nearby. If anything, his head was just filled with thoughts of him – ones that were going to haunt his every waking moment until he could get him alone again.

Fuck, they couldn’t get to this damned summer island fast enough.


End file.
